George grinned.
When she stood to leave she asked, ’Can I bring anything else?’
‘No, lass. I’ll be home tomorrow.’
‘Will you?’ Ella asked in surprise.
‘Yes,’ he nodded before adding darkly, ‘or you’ll be helping me plan my escape.’
‘If they think you should be here . . . ’ Ella bit her lip. When had she turned into George’s keeper? She wasn’t even family.
But, she felt responsible for him. There wasn’t anyone else.
‘Yoo hoo. Hello. Yes, you.’
Ella stopped, unable to pretend any longer that this woman wasn’t talking to her, quite possibly because she was the only person in the hospital corridor.
‘Ella, isn’t it? The artist.’
Ella nodded.
‘I’m Audrey.’ She announced this in a forthright manner as if Ella should know who she was, which of course she did, thanks to Bets. Unfortunately, there was no chance to run as had been the fervent recommendation.
‘Hi,’ said Ella in faint voice. The famous Audrey looked completely harmless and nothing like the ruthless Attila the Hun type that Bets had warned her about. In her smart low-heeled shoes, a mid-length skirt of a definite Marks & Spencer persuasion and a very smart little nipped-in jacket, she looked more like a friendly, glamorous granny. Behind gold-framed glasses, big blue eyes, guileless and friendly, twinkled with warm but decided mischievous intent.
‘Have you just been to see George? How is he? I heard he’d had a funny turn.’
‘He’s—’
‘I had to stop you to say hello. I’ve been very remiss not calling in, although young Bets has been doing a good job. And I did promise Magda I’d look after you. I’ve been so busy these last few weeks.’
From a capricious but very ugly handbag, Audrey whipped out a spiral bound diary. ‘Now let me see, we’ve got the final meeting for the village Bake Off, the Village Hall fundraiser, the Spring Fayre. Not a minute to call my own. But there was something, Magda was most specific . . . ah, here it is. Salsa. She said you’d love to join in.’
Ella just bet she did. When she finally got hold of Magda, she was going to wring her neck.
‘Next Tuesday in the village hall. It’s a shame you missed the flamenco, now that was a lot of fun.’
Ella schooled her face and tried hard not to look at Audrey’s plump hips.
‘Lots of stamping and attitude.’ With a twist of her hands, she held them back to back above her head and with slow steps she circled Ella, like a cheetah its prey. Then she gave two quick claps and stamped her feet, completely oblivious to the fact she was standing in the middle of a hospital corridor.
‘We do like our dance sessions. So we’ve got salsa coming up and much as the old dears all have a go, it would be great to have some young blood for a change.’
‘I don’t think it’s—’
‘You’re going to love it. All you need is a pair of shoes with a bit of a heel. And it helps if you’ve got a skirt with a touch of swish in it, helps you get into the mood. Although some of our ladies get a bit too much into the mood. Old Beryl, who is nearly ninety, Lord, I thought she might put her foot through the floorboards, she was stamping with such gusto. Goodness, is that the time? So Tuesday, five-thirty in the village hall. I’ll see you there.’ She gave an impish grin. ‘Tell Bets she should come too. I know she’s been avoiding me. Surgery finishes early on Tuesdays, so no excuses.
‘Oh I nearly forgot. One of our speakers has cancelled on me. Do you think you could come and do a little talk and a demonstration of your rather wonderful mouse pictures? I thought you could tell us how you started out and how you got published. Quite a few of the WI ladies are aspiring writers and then a few paint lovely watercolours. So, who better to come and talk to us than our resident artist. It’ll be such fun. That’s two weeks on Tuesday and there’s . . . Joyce! Oh Joyce! Sorry, must dash.’
Audrey darted off leaving Ella slightly punch drunk. What had just happened there?
Salsa? In the village hall? With a bemused shake of her head, Ella continued back to her car. She’d have to catch up with Audrey and explain that it wasn’t something she did.
Tess was delighted to see her.
‘Stupid dog, I’ve only been gone for an hour. Poor old George is looking much better. He says you can have a big bone because you saved him. Clever girl. Although I might never leave the house again. It’s too damn dangerous. Let me at least have a cup of coffee and do some work. Bets is coming over soon with Dex and then we’ll go out for a nice long walk.’
Now that she was a lot fitter, she rather enjoyed their joint walks. The lure of spring sunshine was an added incentive. These bright sunny days lifted her mood.
